Ms. Britt's New Assistant

'Rachel, get in here, I don't give a shit about whatever excuse you're pinning on the traffic today!'

Her face sunk when those words reached her ears from down the hall. Why is it always me? She clenched her eyes shut and sighed. So much for being able to sneak in undetected. But I was so quiet! Rachel had made sure no one had a decent view of the office building's double-door entrance when she made her infiltration a half-hour past opening time. How did anyone see me? Her eyes, on the hunt for any would-be snitches scanned the cubicles in her immediate vicinity and followed the aisle separating two clusters of them. They fell on one in particular, the occupant, deep in whatever inane worksheet he was tasked with today, staring at his beige computer monitor. It had to be that rat Nathan a few cubes down in Accounts Payable, he'd suck off the Devil himself if it meant a promotion.

'Fucking snake.' Rachel muttered under her breath.

'Rachel!' This time it was louder and even more direct. There would not be a third time she opened her mouth.

'Coming, ma'am!' Fuck it, I'll deal with him later. She gathered her composure and strode into the hall after accidentally smacking her ass into the corner of her desk,. It was the third time she had been late this week, and the boss was a total bitch when it came to tardiness. Rachel drew a salary like everyone else in the office, what did it matter if she came in at 9:15 instead of 9? Especially in this district where some kid on a clapped-out ten-speed had a better chance to get to his destination sooner than any poor soul trapped in a car during morning rush hour. In any case, traffic was a far better scapegoat for chronic tardiness than her morning self-pleasure sessions. She'd be damned if she was going to cast those aside; if she couldn't get herself off on at least a daily basis she'd be almost as much of a bitch as her boss.

Just down the hall was the stereotypical manager's lair: a corner office with a name plaque emblazoned across the door with a potted fern next to it. It read ANGELA BRITT: VICE PRESIDENT OF OPERATIONS in black letters on gold-colored metal. Rachel's mood was brought down a notch every time she had to walk next to it. Ms. Britt ran her department with an iron fist. Everyone had to be on time, within the most conservative interpretation of the dress code and God help you if you missed a deadline. Her employees complained and filed grievances but, she got results, and that was all higher management cared about, so she was given leeway to run her little fiefdom in whatever productive manner she saw fit. How typical. But she seemed to be targeted the most. She never saw anyone else get pulled into the office for crap like that; Ms. Britt simply delivered a brutal tongue-lashing.

Rachel knocked twice, as per procedure. Procedure being a synonym for, of course, Ms. Britt's mandate. You certainly wouldn't find anything as meaningless and masturbatory like that in any official company SOP or Best Practices binder. The higher-ups were inane and nonsensical, sure, but they weren't her immediate supervisor.

'Enter' she barked. Rachel slowly pushed her door open and closed it behind her. The interior decoration of her office followed conventional management sense; her office chair was placed behind her desk with a couch against the wall adjacent to the door. Typical placement between office couches and desks was around five to six feet, but Ms. Britt preferred to keep just a tad more distance between her and her victim; Rachel estimated around another foot. Her desk had minimal accouterments, just her computer monitor, business VOIP phone and a couple of pens plus an important-looking document folder. Her office chair however, was another story. It appeared to be made of rich, dark leather with a deep blue dye, extending to just a few inches over the top of her head.

Ms. Britt herself sat in stark contrast to her furniture. Reaching about five foot eight inches, she was taller than the average woman. Her jet-black hair hung down in a perfectly straight wall that equally framed her head on each side, stopping just above her shoulders. She was dressed in a form-fitting single-breasted suit just as dark as her hair with the visual pop of a yellow tie underneath, laying on top of her white business shirt. Rachel couldn't see her outfit's bottom, but she imagined it would be a set of slacks or something similar to match the rest of her attire. Angela was the poster girl for corporate professionalism in both demeanor as well as dress.

That was just the outfit. Her body was slim and her face was severe, yet elegant. She was in every respect a beautiful woman. In fact, the only real detriment to her being the talk of the office was her attitude (and privately, Rachel mused, it was a significant contributor to her unmarried status as well).

Rachel wouldn't consider herself quite in the "chubby" department yet (although her bust was certainly there), but she had a few pounds on her boss. What does she do for exercise? Probably a stationary bike or something, she mused. Probably wouldn't hurt to pick up a bit of that myself, as long as it doesn't take my tits away. While not quite as slim or physically fit as Angela, Rachel would definitely be considered attractive. Her own mixed Hispanic/white heritage gave her a light caramel complexion with hair the color of burnt tree bark with similar streaks of color. A couple of passes with a straightener tamed natural curls into gentle wave patterns. Rachel's face was round and her lips were full. Her powder blue blouse tried its best to conceal her healthy bosom and her hourglass figure ended in a wide pair of hips contained by long black pants. She could feel a bit of sweat inside her bra between said tits as a result of her nervousness.

Ms. Britt's complexion was a typical Caucasian tone, with a surprisingly small amount of wrinkles and blemishes in the face department. Rachel had long envied whatever moisturizer regimen she used in the morning to keep her 40-something skin looking so good. If the owner wasn't such an ass and if every prolonged look didn't also contain a verbal thrashing, she might be able to stand looking at it any length of time. Rachel was bisexual and while she leaned towards men most of the time, it wasn't uncommon at all to have the sight of a pretty woman send a tingle between her legs. If only she wasn't such a cunt, but that'll never change. Ever think about playing with yourself in the mornings? It'll probably help.

'Come closer.' Her voice was lower, but still retained every drop of stiff displeasure. 'This is the second time in as many weeks that you have failed to be at your place of work when required. I'm tired of it.'

'Ma'am, the traffic doesn't change from day to day...'

'If I wanted excuses, I'd ask for one.' Rachel clammed up immediately. It was evident that now was not the time to massage the conversation. 'Everyone else can manage to get in here at a decent hour, why can't you? And if I swear to God, if you say the word "traffic" as a justification again, I'll make the janitor the next account manager and you can mop the toilet instead.'

'Yes ma'am, I'll plan better next time. I'll leave earlier, take the bus instead or find something else." Rachel gulped. This wasn't the first time she caught an ass-chewing in this office, but she had never brought up employment before, or rather the potential loss of it. She could feel the start of the blood drain from her face as the horrific realization of just how deep in shit she was slowly crept upon her.

The desk phone rang abruptly and shattered the tension in the room, much to Rachel's temporary relief. Angela shot her a stern look and hit one of the line buttons. She knew when to keep her mouth shut.

'Ms. Britt, the ops manager for the Mullins client is on the line for you', said someone's assistant on the other line meekly. 'He wants to know if the client press package is still a go for next Tuesday.'

'That's a yes, and please remember to keep those life-cycle trackers updated, I'm tired of having to explain discrepancies in the weekly reports.' Rachel couldn't help but feel impressed, if for even a bit of Ms. Britt's ability to effortlessly switch gears from being a disciplinarian to managing people she had no formal control over, while receiver of said discipline was standing in the same room. The right reputation is a powerful asset.

' Yes, Ms. Britt'. Miss Britt, Rachel pondered, moving the words around in her mind. Everyone else seems to be able to call her that except me. Just ma'am, nothing else. Her own eyes narrowed as the possibilities of discrimination or bullying ran through her head concerning these different honorifics. Or maybe it's some cross-functional management thing, some shit she picked up in B school and I'm just freaking out. 'Anything else while I have you?'

'No, that'll be all for the moment'. She stared at her as she clicked the line off. 'Now, where were we?' Rachel stood wordlessly. 'Oh, for Pete's sake, we're in a professional environment, please keep your chest closed around the other employees.'

Rachel's eyes shot open and looked downwards. It was true, she had left a few of her blouse's top buttons undone in her morning commute; her car's A/C was having problems and it was in the middle of July. Whoever saw her come into work this morning got a full-on view of her double D cleavage. She had forgotten to button it up fully in her rush to make it in on time.

'Oh, uhh, sorry ma'am.' She fumbled to button up, and she could feel Angela's gaze on her while she did it, which felt odd. 'About this morning, it won't happen again.'

'Good'. Angela turned her attention towards the folder on her desk and gave it a quick shuffle. 'Oh, come see me in an hour and a half, I have something for you.'

'Yes, ma'am'. With a sigh of relief, Rachel left in a hurry and back to her desk. It was just as lively as when she left it last, which is to say not at all. Everyone else was buried in their work, even Nathan was too focused to pay attention to her. Booting up her computer, she resumed her work from the day before as her heart rate began to settle.

The next hour and a half went slightly slower than expected. Rachel finished up her work and pushed in her chair. The cubicles around her were slightly more populated and to her dismay, Nathan was looking straight at her.

'Told ya you should've been on time', he snickered, evidently informed on the morning's previous events.

Fuck off, she thought as she rolled her eyes, but she was wise enough to hold her tongue. She just stared daggers into him instead. She didn't need any more shit from him today.

Rachel knocked at Ms. Britt's door in the same manner as before, with a significantly reduced beating in her chest.

'Come in', Angela responded, in a similarly warmer but still professional tone. Rachel entered her office and again closed the door behind her.

She was taken aback to see her boss with her suit jacket on the back of her chair, her tie loosened and her shirt's neck button undone. Rachel could make out a glimpse of solid black bra straps through her clothes and the raised rib of its cups against the shirt fabric. I guess she has a fashion preference, but she'd NEVER let herself be seen like this in front of an employee, Rachel thought. What could she possibly want? 'Please make sure the door's closed.'

'It is, ma'am.' Rachel threw her head over her shoulder just to make sure. Angela didn't take to interruptions well, and while she handled the phone well enough, a physical disturbance wouldn't pan out in the same manner.

'Do you know why I called you in here?' How cliche. Rachel responded in the negative. She assumed it wouldn't be to fire her, if that was the case, she would've done it earlier, not go through this whole charade of calling her back in. Ms. Britt was ruthless, but she wasn't cruel. Cruelty wasn't productive. "You're not in trouble. I handled that with you this morning, hopefully for the final time."

'Is the air conditioning in this office not working?' Rachel pondered about her boss's state of undress. "The maintenance guy is just down the hall there, I can go get him if you want."

'No, it's fine, it's plenty cool in here. Please, have a seat," Angela gestured towards her couch, looking her up and down. Doing as she was told, Rachel saw that she was wearing a skirt instead of pants. Her legs were crossed, leaving the eternal question of matching undergarments matched a mystery. Something's off about her today, she's not acting normal. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is being in this position, ignoring nice things like a corner office and a phone that never shuts up?'

'I can imagine, ma'am.' Rachel's eyes drifted to her boss's legs. Smoothly shaved and with a hint of muscle shaping her calves, she would be a catch for any man her age. They followed a gentle taper to end in black high heels. She couldn't help but compare them to her own, which while definitely caught the eye of guys in her past, weren't quite as toned or shapely as Angela's. Well, at least I have her beat in the chest department. 'So, what do you need?'

'It's hard, some days.' Angela casually uncrossed her legs for a brief moment, revealing a hint of black where before there had just been the inside of her thighs. Well, that answers that question. Rachel couldn't help but notice. The "male gaze" was a misnomer; it captivated both sexes. 'I not only have you and the rest of my department to deal with, but I have matters such as that ops guy you heard earlier, I have about four senior VPs constantly circling me trying to get me to trip up and now I'm getting pulled into this week's great idea they're calling a budget analysis committee.' In one swift motion, she unfastened another button on her shirt, exposing just the top of her own cleavage. Rachel was surprised how far it came up. 'I had to rearrange something just to talk to you, that's how bad it's gotten around here.'

'Well, you know what they say ma'am, it's lonely at the top.' Really, that tired old shit was the best you could come up with? Rachel chastised herself internally. Now she really thinks you're brain-dead. Angela cocked her eyebrow, confirming Rachel's fears.

'You're nervous, I can tell.' Her tone softened. 'Please, don't be. There actually is a reason I called you, and it's not to hear leadership tropes as old as I am.' Rachel tried to calm down, but only partially succeeded. 'You've been working for me for a while now, and on average, I'm pleased with your performance. There's a reason you're still here and, well, not doing the janitor's job.'

Okay, now I'm definitely freaking out. Rachel really wasn't sure how to handle this new side of Ms. Britt at all.

'Surprised to hear me not being Miss Queen Bitch 24 hours a day?' Angela leaned slightly forward to peer at her with the slightest hint of a smile. 'I'm not stupid, Rachel. I know how I run my department and I know how I'm perceived. I act the way I do for a reason, and it's not because I feel a need to flex my non-existent penis. Women are eaten alive here. Whatever you heard about feminism, equality and all of that, ceases to exist when you enter those double doors outside. We can succeed, but it requires a certain attitude." Angela stood up and moved to face the window on her right, placing her hands at the small of her back and stared at the city below. Rachel looked her up and down. She had perfect posture, her hair was as neat as it was their last meeting and despite her reduced formality, she certainly cut a striking figure against the pale yellow of the late-morning sun. 'Strength respects strength here, Rachel. Nothing else matters, especially when half of your bosses wish to see you replaced and the other half wishes to see you naked. You certainly look like you understand that.'

Rachel certainly sympathized with her last point. Too often she caught men sneaking too-long glimpses at her body. She wouldn't even mind if it was a quick peek; she understood the pull that feminine traits had on the male mind, but it was the brazenness of it that irked her. It was the complete lack of respect and refusal to exercise the slightest bit of discretion, to treat her as something other than to be ogled at.

'Yes ma'am, I'll admit I've caught a few eyes prying for longer than they should.' Rachel remained seated, still unsure of how to think or what to do in the moment. Witnessing Angela's thawing caused a slight feeling inside of her to stir: a mix of sympathy, admiration and respect. I guess there's some kind of humanity under there after all. 'With the body you have, I'm not surprised you've had it too, if I may be honest, ma'am.'

Angela laughed. Rachel's ears picked up. Laughter. This was the first time she had ever heard any expression of joy leave her lips. It was a wonderful sound, light yet as springy and varied in tone. If she had to place a simile, it would be similar to a songbird resting in a spring meadow. Rachel's guard lessened and her body began to relax.

'The compliment's appreciated, I may be old, but I try to keep myself in decent shape.' Angela ran the back of her hand down her chest and across her belly, twisting as they moved to her flanks up and down. 'Speaking of bodies, you can leave your blouse button undone here. You're in safe territory.'

'Ma'am, I thought you said to keep it up.' Rachel's hand nervously began to creep up her own chest to her neck. It wasn't just the heat that prompted her to leave it down every morning on the way to work, her collar was naturally stifling.

'Last I checked, Rachel, I am not the other employees. I gave specific direction, and I can see it's almost choking you. You really should look into getting some clothes that fit.'

Rachel began to blush as she unfastened her blouse and let her tits breathe, at least the upper half of them. A sigh of relief accompanied it.

"Speaking of bodies, yours isn't too bad yourself, if I may hazard a risk of getting reported for harassment." Angela departed the window to lean on the front of her desk towards Rachel, crossing one leg over the other.

Rachel blushed further, softly bit her lower lip and hung her head in response to the compliment. She was honored. Intimidated, but honored. There still hung a layer of uncertainty in the air in the room. Why is she doing this? She can't be hitting on me, that's ridiculous! Not after what she just said.

'N..No ma'am, absolutely not.' She brought her head up to look Angela in the eyes. They were steel-gray and while they retained the intensity and hardness of their owner's dressing-down prior, her present mood caused them to lighten, and soften the edges. It was a detail Rachel didn't notice beforehand. They were nice eyes. 'If I may be honest again, why am I talking to you right now, and why about this?'

Angela brushed her hair out of her eyes and crossed her arms on her chest, directly underneath her boobs, propping them up ever slightly.

'Women, especially around here need to stick together, especially competent ones." She uncrossed her legs, standing up straight. 'You probably think I hate your guts and that I call you out on little things all the time because I want to see you gone. That's not true.' Rachel's eyes enlarged. 'I'm hard on you because I expect better, and I know you're capable of better. I let people like Nathan slide because he'll live and die sitting in that crappy, tiny hamster cage we call a cubicle, and my breath would be wasted on him.'